


Polaroid Memories

by SpaceGirl2002



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Photographer, Angst, Biker! Otabek Altin, Captain of the football team! Victor, Captain of the football team! Victor Nikiforov, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Highschool AU, Insecure Yuri Plisetsky, M/M, Mila is a cinnamon roll, Oblivious Yuri Plisetsky, Otabek is a Sweetheart, Otabek is a science whiz, Photograoger! Yuri Plisetsky, Victor is the older brother Yuri didn't ask for and never got but Victor is just there to annoy him, Yuri has a bit of memory loss but he's "okay", Yuri's cat may die, otayuri - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-18 02:04:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11281482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceGirl2002/pseuds/SpaceGirl2002
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky's freshman year is off to an eventful start, taking easy courses to get out of spending effort at school.The majority of his time is spent with him in the meadow, looking down at things he had once remembered so vividly.He befriends a red headed girl, who encourages him to come out of his shell.His silver haired neighbor, captain of the football team Victor Nikiforov, just wants to watch the blond grow out of his outcast phase, and with the usual morning talk on their way to school he thinks he's making progress.He swears his LOTE teacher has it out for him, ever since his outburst on the first day of school, and from her point of view he finds something he hadn't experienced since he was nine.His world, however, changes when he bumps into the leather jacket lad from his photography class who sweeps him off his feet.And his world suddenly turns colorful when he finds out that the stack of polaroids in the corner of his bedroom have finally become useful.





	1. Chapter 1

Daydreaming about every tomorrow he knows he can't get back is Yuri Plisetsky's way of telling the world he needs help. 

Each memory he has is painted with exquisite colors that are just as vibrant as his life. Shades of gray and black are all he can see on days when the only thing imaginable are showers of misery. 

This is his cry for help. 

If it hadn't been for those photographs stacked neatly on his desk, he'd lose his mind. Each memory contains key details that Yuri can't seem to remember, from the Golden Poppies that he's planted in the meadow as a kid, to the cold gray skies of his mother's funeral in the spring when he had been nine. 

Years pass yet Yuri can't deem anything important enough to remember. 

He surely wishes that the day will come when he doesn't have to worry about losing the beauty laid before him after he snaps his photographs. 

Everything is numb, and he needs help.

He's mute when it comes to crying out for it.

It's almost as if he'd lost his arms instead of his memory the day of the accident, but he can't seem to worry too much about that. He has worse things to deal with.

He had spent a whole summer out in the forest near his house, overlooking a meadow that looked similar to the one in his photographs. He wishes he could remember it vividly instead of just looking at the black and white photographs he takes.

School is starting soon, with it bringing nightmares that consist of nothing but the screams of his mother and sometimes even her joyous laughter on hot summer days. Yuri can't tell which is which.

He'd moved just after his mother's funeral, in with his grandfather who lived over seas, a new language Yuri had to learn. New customs, and even faces he's soon forget. 

He's tired of it always ending this way.

How every school year he needs to clarify to himself that he has no friends, that the world's unfair and he hates it. How every year he takes photos of things he can't seem to remember, and he has to deal with the pain of knowing that even though he's surrounded by caring people, he's alone.

He doesn't want to feel this way anymore.

He wishes this pain would end.

He just doesn't want to suffer alone.

*     *     *     * 

He wakes up at six in the morning, opening and closing his dazzling gem eyes to wake up his senses. He does this every morning, the same old routine. 

Today's different from any other day, in fact, it'll probably be the most hellish day in Yuri's life. Apart from the accident that is. 

He sits up in his bed, startling the cat who had been curled up on his stomach. He silently bids the warmth a small farewell before stubbornly standing up and stretching. 

Summer vacation is over, taking with it a sense of freedom Yuri had been lacking, trying to balance middle school and summer school. This had been his first real experience of a summer ever since he had moved.

It takes him a while to realize just exactly what day it is, and when the awareness kicks in he groans, flopping back onto his bed. His cat makes a reappearance, it's long whiskers brushing against Yuri's chin, curiosity overwhelming it. He was such a strange specimen.

There's a knock on his bedroom door and a rough, almost hoarse voice behind it, calling for him. 

"If you don't hurry you'll be late," his grandfather informs him before walking down the hallway and finally down the stairs, most likely to get started on breakfast. 

Yuri doesn't have much of an appetite this morning, not when he's been dreading this morning for a while. He dresses rather slowly, the clothes he had laid out on the edge of his bed the night before proving comfort. He dons black jeans and a random shirt from his closet. It wasn't as if he'd take off his hoodie anyways. He almost never did.

He opens the door to his bedroom and out scurries the cat, probably to the window sill at the end of the hallway where it usually basks in any type of weather. He walks down the stairs with dread, his eyes narrowing as he hears a clatter in the kitchen.

"I'm leaving!" He calls to his grandfather as he nears the front door, looking out of the window in the living room before grabbing an umbrella. 

"Don't you want breakfast?" 

"I'm not hungry," he mutters, repeating himself when he realizes that even with his keen sense of hearing, his grandfather wouldn't have hear him.

"Alright, good luck on your first day."

Yuri nods before muttering a quick goodbye and stepping out the door and onto his porch, the pitter patter of the rain relaxing him, gray skies giving a neutral light. Yuri lives in what could be considered by others the suburban part of the brewing city. He wouldn't exactly consider where he lives as suburban, the houses having a spacious distance between them as big as the community pool, or the tennis court at the country club. Maybe even an ice rink, but Yuri's imagination is reserved and limited.

He turns onto the empty sidewalk, heading to the bus stop that takes him into the center of the city. He's calm, buzzing thoughts filling his head as he finds himself kicking a pebble here and there when the closest thing he has to a neighbor steps out of his home. He calls out something over his shoulder, Yuri registers it as Russian, before closing the door and taking long strides to his driveway where a cherry red sports car waits for him, like a carriage. His ocean like eyes scan his surroundings before falling onto an innocent Yuri. He's fallen prey to him countless of times.

"Yuri!" His neighbor cries, waving to him dramatically. The pale boy curses himself, whispering the mantra he had been repeating ever since he had moved in next to the idiot. 

"If you ignore him he'll go away, if you ignore him he'll go away," and so on as he pulls on the hood of his hoodie. A routine of sorts.

"Come on! Don't ignore me!" He jogs down the driveway to catch up to Yuri, who at that point had given up and pulled down his hoodie.

"What do you want, Victor?" He hisses, baring his teeth to intimidate the boy, who was only four years his senior.

"You're in highschool now, no?" Victor tilts his head, vibrant blue orbs staring quizzically at the shorter of the pair. "I would have thought you were still in middle school, with your height and all."

"Fuck off," Yuri barked, venom lacing his words, intending them to be used to repel the older boy. As always, his work was in vain.

"You're walking, aren't you?" Victor inquires, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, feeling it had been slipping off.

"What's it to you? Maybe my friend is picking me up," he fights back.

"You don't have friends," he bluntly states, tilting his head in a motion that could be taken as innocence, it was intended as a challenge to Yuri. "Am I wrong?"

The blond grits his teeth, eyes flashing with anger.

"Thought so," he hums, eyes flashing a dangerous glint. Yuri doesn't flinch, at least he's gotten over that reaction. "I'll take you, we're going to the same high school aren't we?" Viktor asks, knowing full well he's right. He wants Yuri to confirm his victory. 

"We are..." he mumbles, biting his lip and finding a sudden interest in the sidewalk. 

"Then hurry up, freshman like you'll need to be there earlier to find your way."

"I went to orientation," Yuri states, rolling his eyes and following Victor to the sports car. 

"That doesn't save you from the sea of the student body. Trust me, four years in that dump. Can't wait until I can get out of here," he snickers, sighing contently as he starts up the engine. "You don't mind if I let it warm up do you?"

"It's fine." Yuri's quick response makes the silver haired boy raise an eyebrow, same shade as his hair and hue as his skin. He's aesthetically pleasing, dressed in his red and white letterman jacket and white jeans, cream colored converse adorn his feet and Yuri can't help but grimace. The girls from tumblr could eat him up.

"Alright," he says through a yawn, stretching his arms over his head, causing his plain white t-shirt to ride up, showing his washboard abs. Yuri is disgusted. 

"Show some decency in public," he hisses under his breath, pulling up his hood loosely over his head, pale yellow strands peeking through.

"Technically, we're still on my property, so I can do whatever I want," he pouts, staring at the small blond with puppy dog eyes.

"You're too old to be acting childishly," he remarks, rolling his eyes and checking the overflowing sea of notifications he makes out to be as texts from his friends.

"You're too young to be acting like you're already looking into a retirement plan," Victor bites back, stretching his long legs before pulling out of the pavemented driveway. 

Yuri hums in response, inhaling and exhaling calmly, already feeling the signs of irritation. 

Victor doesn't drive like a maniac, much opposed to the way Yuri had imagine as soon as he had stepped foot in his car. 

The late summer of Yuri Plisetsky's freshman year is bittersweet, ready to unfold as the blood red car cruises down the road. 

Fate has yet to be done with him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This probably has a lot of mistakes.

“I can give you a ride home if you want,” Victor offers as he pulls into the school parking lot, a grimacing Yuri sitting next to him in the passenger’s seat. “You don’t have to respond, but I’d really like your answer by the end of the day, to know if I should go to practice or not.”

“The captain of the football team can’t afford to skip practice if he still wants to be a star player,” Yuri taunts, lips curving into a smirk.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, besides it’s feel wrong to leave someone like you to take public transportation,” Victor says, killing the engine and putting the car keys into his pocket. 

They’re twenty minutes early, just perfect for Yuri to locate his first period classroom; “LOTE: Russian.” He pulls out the tiny pink slip from his pocket to look over his schedule again, making sure he’d memorized the teacher’s name and the correct room number. “Why would you worry about me taking the bus?” Yuri inquires, raising an eyebrow to emphasize his point. 

“Have you seen yourself? You’re an easy target. Heck, if I was a delinquent, or anyone from our rival school, I’d sock you square in the jaw or pickpocket you. No offense, but compared to the rest of the people your age, you’re much less menacing than the grumpy cat meme.”

The blond narrows his eyes before letting out a hiss, surprisingly humoring Victor.

“See, there you go again, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d curl up on someone’s lap this instant.”

“I’d rather commit genocide than sleep in anyone’s lap.”

Victor laughs, a sweet sound that only lasts a second before his once joyful expression is replaced with one that’s only a bit more serious. 

“You’ve got my phone number, so ring me if you need anything. What period do you have lunch?”

“Fifth, just after Trigonometry.” Victor hums softly before putting his hand forward, waiting for Yuri to hand him his schedule. He does, only moments later, his anger subsiding. “Looks like we have all our free periods together. We can sit together during lunch.”

“Like I’d ever accept your offer,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes. He snatches the paper from Victor’s unsuspecting hands before slinging his backpack over his shoulder and stepping out the vehicle. “Now, if you need me, I’ll be on my way to class.” He does a mock curtsy before giving up, deciding even if he fakes it, it’s still hard. 

“B211,” he mutters, schedule folded neatly in the pocket of his hoodie, safely put next to his phone. Without these two he’s be lost and most likely dead. His language class is just about on the other side of campus from where the senior parking lot is, around a five minute journey if he sprints ever so slightly. Luckily, the rest of his classes don’t overlap and he’s not forced to walk in vain.

He nears the second floor of the building when he feels a stare burning into his back. He’s been ignoring the feeling, passing it off as nerves, but with each passing second, the feeling grows hotter, as hot as the flames he’d felt as a kid. Ironically, he shivers.

He’s not comfortable leaving his things in his locker just yet, he wants to grow familiar with the layout of the school first. Victor had been right. As opposed to orientation, the halls had turned to seas of students, and Yuri was just a another drowning victim. 

He repeats the mantra of the classroom number before stopping in front of an open door next to a row of lockers. The blond pulls his hood down and brushes pale yellow bangs out of turquoise eyes. The classroom is remotely empty save for a pack of girls, giggling and gossiping at a cluster of desks that had been pushed together. A red haired girl sits off to the side opposite the door, shoulder length hair that’s textured in waves, layers of burgundy flaring with the early morning rays. 

She’s alone, earbuds blasting music Yuri can barely comprehend. He can’t say he wants to befriend her, but she’s interesting and stands out from the sea of girls who look exactly the same. He isn’t brave enough to approach her. 

He settles for the desk at the back of the classroom and furthest from the door, just a few feet away from the red wine haired girl, quickly becoming Red Wine in Yuri’s head. 

He pulls out his phone from his pocket to be met with a rush of notifications from his friends. You could call them friends, but his relationship with them is far too complicated for him to come up with a better term. He calls them friends for a while after, until he finds his first friend.

He often doesn’t comment much on their antics, often face palming at just how wild these friends of his are. Especially a girl who’s around the same height of him, who loves to write and and radiates happiness and confidence, things he himself lacks. 

The bell rings, signaling a rush of students pouring into their individual classrooms. As the clock ticks, Yuri’s hope for a small class is demolished, trampled on like the rush of freshmen that pour into the classroom. 

Their teacher, a tall pale woman with black hair pinned up in a tight bun, walks in, wearing an expression of disgust. Yuri’s seen her kind before, and frankly he’d expected someone far worse to deal with in the morning. 

Her voice booms across the classroom, a thick Russian accent butchering specific words, startling students who had already begun to snooze. “I know fairly well that none of you want to be here, so let’s keep this introduction short. My name is Lilia Baranovskaya. You may only address me by my surname. Any attempts to call me by my given name will either cause me to ignore you, or end up with you cleaning gum from underneath the classroom desks after school. Any further questions should be forwarded to my email as I do not wish to converse with hormonal teenagers this early in the morning.” Yuri can’t help but snicker, the person seated to his right shoots him a glare. Yuri’s never been one to take a hint, and it’s gotten him in serious trouble before.

“You, with the blond hair. Is something funny?” Lilia’s sharp voice makes Yuri freeze for a fraction of a second before his face goes slack and his eyes narrow. Her expression hasn’t changed, but the tension in the room and his classmates all craning their necks to stare at him soon becomes unsettling. 

“Not really, the only thing I’d actually find funny in here is if you fail me.” And there he goes, blowing his cover. He’s supposed to be inexperienced in Russian, his first language. If the head of the course department had known he was indeed fluent in Russian he’d be transferred to Spanish. He can’t seem to forget the disbelief in the woman’s face when he’d told her he hadn’t the faintest idea how to even pronounce any other word than his full name.

“And why is that?” Lilia calls back from the front of the classroom, gradually making her way towards Yuri’s desk. Red Wine girl turns her whole body to get a better glance at Yuri, amusement written in her vibrant eyes.

“It just is, an unspoken law as old as the universe itself,” he replies, standing up to meet his teacher. 

There’s a snicker from a few rows in front of him, the girl with the short red hair, covering her mouth to muffle her giggle.

“Who do you think you are?” Lilia hisses, slamming her fist on the hardwood desk. 

“Yuri fucking Plisetsky.”

 

* * * * 

“I can’t believe you had to be sent home early for that!” Victor exclaims, starting the engine of his sports car.

“Technically, I wasn’t sent home early. I was excused from the rest of my classes and asked to stay after school to speak with the dean,” Yuri mutters in a matter-of-fact tone.

“I can’t believe I was called in as well!” Victor cries out, pulling out of the nearly empty parking lot. 

“I can’t believe my grandfather put you as an emergency contact.”

“I’m not surprised by that. He usually comes over for tea and to chat with my parents. He purposely enrolled you here so that I’d keep an eye on you.”

“What the fuck?” Yuri blurts out, staring at Victor’s contradicting eyes that hue closer to an aquamarine.

“Language,” Victor says through a laugh, his eyes straying from the city traffic to the pouting blond next to him.

“Sod off,” the blond murmurs, rolling his teal eyes. “Focus on the road.”

“I am!” Victor shrieks, offended by the fact he would accuse him of something like that.

“Sure you are,” he whispers, looking over his shoulder only to be met with a trail of unmoving cars, late afternoon traffic.

For a while, the only noise is that of honking cars and the sound of squealing tires, the usual.

“So give me a recap on what happened,” Victor taunts, winking just slightly as Yuri shivers in disgust.

“Why would I? The dean basically covered it all,” he responds, looking over to Victor and raising an eyebrow. 

“You wouldn’t want me to tell your grandfather, would you?” Victor threatens, his playful demeanor suddenly becoming a serious one. 

“Like hell you would, I bet the dean phoned him anyways,” Yuri hisses.

Victor laughs softly, shaking his head and shooting the blond a smile. “I convinced the dean to let you off the hook.”

Yuri perks up, eyes widening just a fraction. “How’d you do that?” He spits out, crossing his right leg over his left and leaning back. 

Victor’s face falls for just a second, well enough for Yuri to notice, before his usual smile is back and it shines even brighter, almost forced. “Being the star player on the football team has it’s perks,” he winks before his attention returns to the line of cars in front of them. 

There’s silence once again, but this time it’s soothing, granting the small blond a sense of tranquility. “Is your grandfather doing well?” The silver haired boy questions, a soft yet sad smile pulling at the corner of his lips. 

The blond is silent for a moment, relinquishing the peace he thought he had acquired. “He seems to be doing okay, but I’m pretty sure it’s getting worse.”

“Have you ever thought of the possibility he-”

“Shut up.” Yuri demands, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth slightly, trying to prevent from himself swing at Victor. “Don’t talk about it.” It’s a miracle he manages to get it out without bursting into heaving sobs or landing a pitiful punch at the older boy.

“I’m sorry I brought it up,” he apologizes, tone an everlasting bittersweet feeling. He hates it. He hates every inch of this boy, he’s too perfect and whole and Yuri is nothing and bitter. He’s told himself that comparing himself to Victor’s ideal lifestyle will only result in more problems for himself, it isn’t worth trying.

“I’m sorry your life is too perfect to understand what I’m going through.” A flash of hurt pools into Victor’s hurricane blue eyes, mouth modestly agape. He want’s to say something, oppose what Yuri had uttered, but he know’s the younger boy is fragile, he’s at a critical point in his life. He doesn’t want to damage him anymore than what fate has done. 

He doesn’t want to commit the same mistakes he had made when he was young.

Instead, he let’s him be, to bask in his self pity, a step closer to Yuri’s self destruction. He doesn’t speak at all after that, aware that if he says the wrong things, the blond will flip. Instead, he responds with slight nods and hums. 

“If we don’t get home in an hour I’m going to miss the sunset.” It’s a childish remark, one not intended to be taken lightly, but Victor’s known Yuri for years now, and he secretly can’t help but coo at his passion. “I like taking photos of the sun when it sets, it creates pretty orange and pink streaks in the sky.” Victor lets out a soft chortle, making a left turn and finally entering the suburban area of the city. 

“You can drop me off just before you pull into your driveway, if you’d like,” Yuri says, spotting Victor’s small estate-like home. Victor nods, keeping well on not talking, but he’s pretty sure the blond is neutral. He’s calm, and the only thing that would most likely set him off would be missing the sunset. 

Victor stops just a few feet from the driveway, foot on the break as he turns to the blond. He’s already opening the door and slinging the backpack over his shoulder when he speaks up.

“Make sure you take a photo for me, okay Yuri?” His smile and words are sincere, but Yuri doesn’t know how to tell just yet. He narrows his eyes into a glare before muttering something he can’t quite comprehend and starting off on his way home, silence enveloping him. 

Victor can’t imagine the pain Yuri’s going through, knowing fully well there’s no hope left for his grandfather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can come find me on Tumblr at haikyuuwallofshame or thatastrophile.

**Author's Note:**

> Just wanted to get this out before I regret it.
> 
> Feel free to find me on tumblr at Haikyuuwallofshame or thatastrophile


End file.
